Pitch's Philophobia
by KitoH
Summary: After his defeat, Pitch finds a young woman with a unique fear. The fear of all things icy and cold. And she believes in him. She's the perfect weapon to exact his revenge, but soon he finds himself thinking of her as something more. The problem is, his own fear strikes. The fear of love. (PitchxOC)
1. Chapter 1

**I had another burning idea and I decided to write it. As if I didn't already have enough stories to write.**

 **Please Review and tell me what you think. It would make my day.:)**

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He dragged his feet across the ground, his powerless state getting to him. He passed a shop window and stared miserably at his reflection. His shadow-like robe was worn and torn in random places, the colour a bit grey, like his skin. His once spiking black hair, now flopped behind him, in no state to stand. Just like him. He had bags under his eyes, despite not needing sleep in the first place. Before, golden eyes shone with cunning and wit. Now dulled and empty.

Pitch Black was nothing more than a shadow of his former self. After his recent defeat at the hands of the Guardians, he had been attacked by his nightmares. It had been a hard fight, but eventually, he gained just enough strength to overcome them. Now he just wandered, looking for someway to get even the slightest power.

He turned to continue his tired trudge as two running children ran through him, unknowingly. He lifted a hand to his chest for a moment before dropping it. Those weren't the first to have ran through him since he escaped, but they certainly weren't the last. He sighed at what he now was. Before, those children would have hurt him greatly, maybe even angered him, but now? Now he was used to it. It was nothing more then a brief pain. If he didn't do something soon, he would be lying on the footpath, continuing to be walked over like doormat.

As Pitch pressed on, he took in the night. It was near 10 but was extremely bright, due to the many lights that shone in the city of New York. People walked around, on their way home for the night. Children were having last minute snowball fights, trying to make the most of the November snow before they were hauled home by their parents. A cold blast of wind shot through the air, causing Pitch to shiver slightly. However, as it passed, he felt a strong pulse of something he had not felt in while.

A pulse of fear.

Eagerly, the Boogeyman ran after it and found himself at the end of a narrow alley. A young woman, who looked to be in her early 20s, walked through. She wore a thick green coat with a furred hood. Her hat, scarf and gloves were also green, little, intricate, dark green leaf-like designs adorning them. Despite being wrapped up so tight, she shivered and wrapped her arms around her, looking around, scared. She came closer and closer to Pitch, said spirit preparing for her to walk through him.

Therefore, he was greatly surprised when she stopped short of him and gasped in terror. Now that he was right in front of her, he could see her eyes were green, like the garments she wore, and her hair was long, wavy and black. The emerald orbs, fixated on his own amber.

None said a word, but he could feel her fear of him slowly disappearing. However, as a strong gust of wind passed through the alleyway, she automatically jumped into him, fear coming from her in thick luscious waves. Once the gust vanished, she realised what she had unintentionally done and snapped back.

"I'm so, so sorry, Sir! I didn't me-"

"-It is fine." Pitch told her, his voice smooth and cool. "I know it was unintentional. Now if you don't mind my asking, why is a young woman walking through the alleyways at this time at night? You have heard the stories of what happens to people like you in these parts."

She gulped and nodded meekly, like a child being reprimanded by their parents. "I was just on my way home. What about you?"

Pitch sighed forlornly. "Unlike you, I have no destination in mind."

"Would you like to stay with me for the night?"

The question caught Pitch off guard. He considered the woman before him, taking in her sincere expression. When it seemed like he wouldn't answer, she elaborated.

"It's the least I can do for, ya know, jumping at you so impromtly."

There was another silence.

"If it is no bother.."

"No! Of course not. Come with me."

As she began to walk away, Pitch called for her. "Wait!" She turned and looked at him confused. "Before we leave this alleyway, there is something I must tell you." He admitted. As luck would have it, he didn't need to explain himself. A child came through the alley with his parents and walked through Pitch, right in front of the young woman. She put a hand to her mouth in shock.

"You're...you're a spirit."

Pitch shrugged nonchalantly. "You're pretty smart. Most people would have called me a ghost. However, yes. I am a spirit. The Boogeyman, to be more specific. I normally go by the name Pitch Black."

To his surprise, she quickly got over her shock. "Why can I see you if that boy and his parents couldn't?"

He pointed at her. "You believe I exist." He pointed behind him where the family had been walking a moment ago. "They do not."

She nodded and gestured for him to follow. Just before they left the alleyway, he paused his step and asked. "What's your name?"

She stopped as well, and answered. "My name is Anya. Anya Shippermier."


	2. Chapter 2

**Guest Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie: It's a character flaw but she explains her reasoning behind it in this chapter.**

 **Picasso Penguin: You'll find out a bit more about her nervousness and why she invited Pitch in this chapter. The reason I said 'recent' defeat is because he's been around for eons, so a few months is virtually nothing to him. But glad you like it.**

 **Sofie Rose: You're the first person to not ask about why she invited a stranger to her home without thinking! Thank you! Glad you like this.**

 **Like I've mentioned a few times above, the reasons she invited Pitch despite not originally knowing him are in this chapter.**

 **Read and Review!**

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The streets were emptier them before, Pitch subconsciously noticed. It was a Thursday after all. People needed to go to work or school the next morning.

He turned his attention to Anya, who walked beside him, shivering and her eyes darting around in fear. Unknowingly, she was powering him, giving him strength. But whereas before he would have basked in the steady flow of strength returning to him, he just wanted to know what exactly was making her so scared.

"So, you never really answered my question. What are you doing out at this time?"

"Taking some books back to the library." She answered shortly, turning the corner.

Pitch raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And you never got any others?"

She lead the Spirit of Fear inside an apartment building, and began the climb up the stairs. "I'm leaving town in a few days. I normally stay in the countryside until Easter. It's nice and quiet there."

Despite feeling there to be more behind her reasoning, Pitch stopped his interrogation. He watched her pull out her keys and open the door. He looked around at his new surroundings. There was a living room connected to a small kitchenette. There was two cupboards in her hall, a bathroom and one bedroom. A small modest apartment.

She took off her scarf, hat, gloves and coat, but immediately replaced the latter with a black fleece. She turned the lights on and turned the heating on while she was at it, despite the place already being quiet cosy.

"Sit down. Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back now." Anya grabbed her discarded clothing and took it into the bedroom, humming a tune that Pitch did not recognise. When she came back, he noticed she had changed into her pyjamas but had vouched for keeping the fleece on. She was still humming, as if lost in a fantasy. She straightened out a few things in the kitchenette, such as washing her earlier dishes, before she came and sat on the other sofa in the living room.

"Do you want something to eat?" She asked, hesitantly. "You look like you haven't eaten in days."

"Make it centuries." He corrected, earning a shocked look from his hostess. "Don't bother yourself."

After a small silence, she asked a question. "So if you're the Boogeyman, do people like Santa an-"

"Yes." He interrupted. He had the dencency to look a bit ashamed at his behaviour. Just because he was the Nightmare King, didn't mean he couldn't be a gentleman if he wished. "I'm sorry, but I really don't like to talk about them."

Anya just sighed, thankful the spirit did not angrily lash out at her. "So, you feed off people's fear, or is that just a story?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I do not feed off fear. If people are scared, it gives me power. I do not literally leech the fear from them. However, I can sense people's fears. The more powerful the fear, the easier to sense. But it seems you are different." The last sentence made the green eyed woman stiffen.

"What do you mean?"

His eyes bore into hers as he answered. "I mean, I can sense your fear, but for some reason I'm having trouble sensing what the fear is of. In order to learn your fear, I need to observe you.."

"And what do you gather from your observations?" She asked quietly.

"I believe that you have a fear of, correct me if I'm wrong, the cold."

She nodded in affirmative. "Pagophobia. Fear of everything icy and cold. I don't know why, it's just this irrational fear I've always had. I hate snow and ice and winter in general. Stuff like ice cream and ice cubes I avoid as well. If I know I'm going to have to come into contact with any type of cold, I bundle myself up till I'm wearing, like, 7 layers of clothing."

He nodded in understanding. "It is an unusual fear. Not unheard of, but unusual. Especially for it to be an irrational fear." Then it clicked. "You're scared of snow and ice and winter?"

"Yep. It's alrightish if the snow's already fallen. If it's falling I'm downright terrified."

He began to get excited. She was scared of Winter. His downfall was caused by the Embodiment of Winter. Perhaps the Fates were on his side this time.

"Are you alright..?"

Pitch was too caught up trying to twist this circumstance to his use and didn't notice Anya shrink as he began mumbling. "Perfect opportunity...can get my revenge...make Frost pay..."

"Umm, Mr Boogeyman?"

That made Pitch snap back to reality. Anya was looking at him scared. Normally, he would have delighted at that, but he needed her to trust him in order to use her for his revenge.

"Sorry, for the abrupt change of behaviour. Circumstances have made it so I am not always in the right state of mind."

Anya waved it off like nothing. "It's fine. Just a bit sudden."

"Since you have asked me a few questions, I think it's only fair if I ask you one." She gave a nod of confirmation. "Why did you invite me to your home? It's dangerous in itself but in such a big city with so many criminals, it's suicidal."

"I..i..I don't really know. I guess I was still flustered by me jumping at you and asked it without realising. When I did figure out I asked, I felt it would be rude to take it back so I stayed quiet. It might also have something with me subconsciously knowing you're the Boogeyman and wanting to stay on your good side." She finished with grin.

He couldn't help the small smile that slipped onto his own features. "You didn't even know I was a spirit until the boy walked through me. And, you can call me Pitch. I promise I won't give you nightmares if you do."

She snorted slightly but acknowledged the offer. "Well, _Pitch,_ if you were paying attention I said I subconsciously recognised you. I've kinda always looked up to you as a child."

That just surprised the Nightmare King greatly. "Really?"

"Yeah. I always felt that you were misunderstood so when me and my old friends used to pretend to be people like the Tooth Fairy and Santa, I was always the Boogeyman."

They fell quiet, and sat there quietly, Pitch still observing the mortal that accompanied him. She sat there, curled up on herself. Her eyelids began to droop. It wasn't long before she had fallen asleep. That scared Pitch. He couldn't leave her on the sofa the way she was, but he was scared to interact with her.

He ignored the voice in his head telling him off for being scared of a sleeping woman. He considered his options.

1) He could leave her there.

Not a good idea. She would wake up cramped and achey.

2) He could wake her up and she could go to bed herself.

He made for the second option but paused just before he touched her. He looked at how she slept. Her long black hair lay over her face and was spread around her fleece. Her mouth was partly open, allowing him to hear her soft breathing. No. He would not wake her. Which left him with the last option.

Pitch picked her up in his arms, holding her like a sleeping baby. Ignoring how she seemed more comfortable in his hold than she was before, he slowly made his way to her room and lay her on the single bed that sat in the middle. He pulled up the duvet, covering everything but her face. Anya let out a small whimper, trying to find him in her sleep, wanting the warmth from his body to comfort her against the cold. He quickly turned and fled the room, not forgetting to close the door behind him. He sighed in relief, making his way back to the living room, planning to spend the night plotting and scheming. He wasn't going to be with her for long. He just needed her to get his revenge, that's it. Then he needn't interact with her ever again.

But there was a small nagging feeling, telling him he'd regret it. He ignored it in favour of thinking of ways to make sure the Guardians payed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Guest Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie: One of those ideas are spot on. Not saying which.**

 **Please R &R**

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Pitch heard some shuffling from the doorway. He looked up and saw Anya stretching and yawning still half asleep. He was confused until he looked out of the window and saw the sun coming up.

"Good morning, Pitch." She yawned, making her way to the kitchenette.

"Same to you." He replied shortly. He got up and went to the kitchenette, standing by the countertop. He watched as she expertly threw ingredients into a bowl and turned them into a mixture. She pulled out a frying pan and dumped a bit of the mixture in. When one side was cooked, she grabbed a plate with one hand and flipped the half cooked mixture over. She tossed it again and it landed in the plate, which she set in front of Pitch.

He looked at it confused. When he looked to Anya for an explanation, she laughed at his blank expression.

"It's a pancake! You're meant to eat it!"

"You seem to have forgotten that I haven't eaten in centuries." He stated, pushing the plate away, despite the delicious aroma that wafted from it.

"Well, now's a good time to start again." Anya smiled, pushing the plate back towards him.

Pitch crossed his arms and slightly pouted. "No." He mumbled, turning away.

"It's a pancake. Not poison."

"Now you've put that idea in my mind, I'm definitely not eating it."

"Alright."

Pitch silently cheered, thinking he won. He turned around, ready to say something, and, without warning, a piece of pancake was pushed into his mouth. He choked slightly and was about to spit it out when he saw Anya standing there, hands on her hips. Suddenly, he thought it may be within his best interests to eat it. He chewed it slowly, noticing bursts of sweetness on his tongue. He swallowed it and saw Anya was facing the cooker, busy making another pancake. He broke off another piece and quickly put it in his mouth. Then he got another. And another. And another.

Quite soon, the whole plate was empty and Anya looked at Pitch, highly amused. "Thought you said you didn't want to eat." She stated, a victorious smirk on her face.

Pitch ignored the fact that he was most likely turning purple and replied, "I only ate it because I knew you would continue to feed me."

"Suurrrre! If ya say so." The green eyed girl jumped onto the countertop, happily eating her own breakfast. "So," she began, nonchalantly. "Where do you plan on going?"

Pitch stiffened, but it wasn't noticeable.

 _'How can I stick with her without it sounding so strange!? I need to stay with her so I can put my plan into action!'_

 _"_ Uhhh, Pitch? You still in there?"

The Nightmare King snapped out of his thoughts and saw Anya looking at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"I have no plans as of now." He did have a plan, just not for where he was going now. Though, judging her by her previous invitation, he could find that quickly changing.

He wasn't disappointed when she asked, "Well, why don't you come with me?"

He couldn't jump at the offer. It would be too obvious. She was a smart woman. He had to make his performance believable. "I can't do that! I have imposed on you already."

"Imposing? Of course not. Besides, it gets a bit lonely. I could use the company."

He pretended to give it some serious thought, unbeknownst to Anya. "If you're sure that I won't get in the way..."

"You won't be." She finished her breakfast and went to get changed. She came back in jeans and a black sweater. She pulled on her coat, scarf, gloves but decided to forgo the hat in favour of putting up her hood. She put on some knee high boots, all the while, Pitch watching.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

" _We_ are going to get some snacks for when we leave as well as some food for the next 2 days."

"I told you, I don't eat."

"Oh yeah!" Drawled Anya sarcastically, trying to find where she carelessly put her keys last night. "Because it was not you who ate that pancake. Sorry, I forgot."

Pitch scowled. "You are a brat."

"So I've been told. Ah ha! Found 'em! Let's go." They left the apartment and headed off for the shops. Pitch felt a bit odd, walking through society like a normal person, despite no one (except Anya) could see him. Speaking of Anya, he couldn't figure her out.

Being the Nightmare King, he could easily figure out people's fear and work out what they were like. When he first met Jack Frost, it was too easy. The boy was mischievous, but insecure at the same time. He had so many fears to play with and knew how to make things intresting. Even for Pitch.

But Anya?

At first, Pitch thought she was a bit insecure, with how suddenly she reacted when she first saw him. But then he changed that judgement when she invited him to her home. She seemed a bit courageous, a bit bold, despite being so nervous. Then after breakfast, he changed his mind and thought her to be witty, sarcastic, and intelligent. Time and time again, he though he had her figured out, and time and time again, she confused him even more. She was like a mystery, a challenge.

"Um, Pitch?" She said quietly, so as not to drag notice to herself. To everyone else it would seem she was talking to herself. As if she didn't already have problems.

"Yes?" He replied, for some reason keeping his voice low as well.

"What do you want to eat, later on?"

He was going to say nothing because he didn't eat, but then thinking about it, he decided against it. Anya would most likely find a way to con him into eating like she had this morning. "I don't know." He said, instead. "I haven't been paying attention to human cuisine in the past few centuries. I was never planning to eat so I never saw the point."

As the dark haired female took that into consideration, Pitch looked around, looking at the things he never bothered noticing before. Humans were so technologically advanced. They had sensors that could sense if someone was taking out an unpaid item. They had cameras watching their every move.

"And I thought humans were bumbling idiots." He mumbled to himself.

"It's a bit different from another perspective, is it not?" Whispered Anya, gesturing for Pitch to follow, discreetly.

They walked up to the counter and Anya was greeted by the man behind it.

"Ahh! Miss Shippermier! Are we preparing to leave?" He asked, scanning the items.

"Yeah. I leave in two days. This Sunday. How's your family?"

"As wonderful as always." The elder man's voice lowered at the following question. "How's this Winter?"

Anya grimaced. "Brutal. If I'm outside, I keep looking around like someone is after me." Then she thought about when she met Pitch yesterday. "But since yesterday, it's been bearable."

"Well, that's $47.25."

Anya gave him the exact amount and he put it in the cash register. He grabbed a Hershey's chocolate bar and the receipt. "And here's your receipt and change."

Anya shook her head. "I can't take it." She weakly protested. By the little amount of force in her voice, Pitch could tell this wasn't the first time this had happened.

"I insist." He said and shoved both the chocolate and the receipt into her hands. "Have a nice day, Miss Shippermier."

The green eyed girl shook her head and waved good. "Thank you, Mr. Elmsberry. See you 'round Easter."

Spirit and human left the shop. "What was that all about?" Inquired Pitch, once they were outside

"I've been going to the same shop since I was a kid." Explained Anya, crossing the road. "I didn't have the best of childhoods and Mr. Elmsberry would give me a chocolate bar in an attempt to make me feel better. It's kinda become a habit for him, and he just won't take no for an answer. He was the one who comforted me when...when Mom passed away." She fell into a slight depressed silence.

Pitch grinned internally. He decided to delve for more information on her. But he had to do it carefully. He didn't want her to shut down. "What about your father?"

"Long story short, _he's_ the reason I went to Mr. Elmsberry as a kid." She said, an unhidden malice in her voice. Piecing the info together, Pitch realised her father abused her as a child. This kind of knowledge would be very useful in using her against the Guardians.

They walked back to the apartment, Anya too caught up in memories to let her pagophobia get to her. She silently put everything away except for a few things. Pitch watched, half paying attention, half scheming. His planning came to a halt as he realised he missed some vital details.

"When you say the countryside, where exactly do you mean?" He asked, his British accent thick with curiosity.

She put most of her attention to the pots in front of her and answered him absentmindedly. "It's near a place called Burgess."

Pitch's lips twitch upwards.

Anya put the lids on the pots, and turned to look at Pitch, who had to quickly contain his smirk.

"You know, when I was younger, I started to right stories about you. I stopped but then I wrote another one this Easter."

The gears in Pitch's plotting mind froze. "You wrote stories...about me?"

The human woman became bashful, almost regretful, about telling him. "Uhh, yeah? I wanted to ask if you could...I dunno...read one?"

Pitch was ready to refuse, but quickly remembered he needed to earn her trust. "If you bring it to me, only then can I read it."


	4. Chapter 4

**Guest Reviews:**

 **Sofie Rose: Glad you like her. She's fun to write.:)**

 **Crossover Junkie: More insightful than stupid I would say. Eventually...**

 **Picasso Penguin: It's more than mere fanfiction. Trust me. Glad you loved the pancake scene. I had a blast writing it! About my update time. I go to bed at half 8 because of my baby sister, so I wake up considerably early. So I write my chapters and by the time it's 6, I post one, I finish it. Anyways, I have to get up in the morning for prayers so the more awake I am, the better.**

 **Feeling dead and would appreciate if you R &R. Thanks.**

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She nodded and quickly ran into the hallway. Pitch heard her rummaging through one of the cupboards. The sound of something falling was followed by a yell of surprise and then, a string of curses even Pitch didn't know. She came back holding an old notebook that was looking worse for wear. The green cover was dull and battered, the pages of it evidently yellowed. She looked down at it before quickly throwing it at the Boogeyman, so she couldn't change her mind.

"If you can't read the writing, just let me know. I was about 7 when I wrote it." She quickly turned back to the food on the cooker, but not before Pitch saw her pale skin turn slightly red.

He opened the book and began to read.

 **'Many, many years ago, there was a man that went by the name Kozmotis Pitchiner.'**

Pitch looked up at the human girl in front of him, feeling extreme shock. She was ignoring the Nightmare King, her focus on the knife and cutting board in front of her. Anya's expression was hidden away by her silky curtain of midnight black hair. Curious, he looked back at the text in front of him.

He read at a steady pace, taking in the information. He read his battle against the Fearlings. He read how they conned him into opening the prison and then went on to possess him. He read his attack on the Pookas and his defeat against the Guardians.

Pitch finished in half an hour, utterly baffled. This young, mortal, human woman had somehow managed to accurately describe the few years before and after, his turning to the Boogeyman. He looked down blankly, trying to work out how she could do such a thing, when he felt a tap on his shoulder, and started.

"Sorry, Pitch. Lunch is ready." He put down the book and looked to the bowl of steaming pasta that was handed to him. He poked his fork in it, still deep in thought. "So, what did you think?"

"I have an important question." He locked eyes with her, noticing her brow crease in worry and her nose scrunched slightly.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voiced laced with worry at the Nightmare King's sudden change of attitude.

"Where did you get the ideas for the story?"

"Umm.. Well, when I was young, I never had dreams. So then suddenly I got these as dreams. I wrote them down after I woke up and realised they linked so I decided to turn them into a story. After the dream of the end, I stopped having dreams. This past Easter, I got three nights of dreams, and wrote them down. They made another story. Why? What's wrong?"

"This," he held up the old notebook. "Is my exact story. Everything you have written, has happened to me."

Anya almost dropped her fork in surprise. "Really?!" Pitch nodded. "How is that possible?"

"I really don't know." This had absolutely baffled the Boogeyman. Here he thought he would read a pointless little story about him. Instead, he recieved his biography. "You said you wrote another, around Easter?"

Anya had a sip of water. "I'll give it to you, _after_ you eat." She told him with a cheeky smile. Pitch rolled his eyes and ate without complaint. If he was honest, he actually found Anya's cooking delicious. When she made it, he could see the passion she put into it. But that wasn't the only talent he found this human woman possessed. She knew he was the Boogeyman, the spirit that came to give children nightmares and scare them. Despite having this knowledge, she treated him in a way he hadn't been treated since he was Kozmotis.

She treated him like an equal.

She didn't turn him away, nor did she judge him when she found out who he was. However, she didn't act like he was more important than her. In fact, at times, he felt like he was the inferior one out the two of them.

As he finished his lunch, his thoughts had left the mystery of her dreams and his life. Instead, they were revolved around Anya.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as another notebook was flung at him. Pitch managed to catch it out of reflex, and glared at Anya, who gave a cheekily little grin as she picked up the dishes.

"That shouldn't take too long. It's pretty short compared to the first."

She was right. Pitch finished it in 15 minutes and when he put the book down, he found that Anya had vanished. He got out of the chair he had lounging in and walked to her room. Despite it being the second time entering the room, he only realised how cluttered it was now.

Anya lay on her bed, reading a book. _Alice in Wonderland_ , Pitch read when he glanced at the title. His gaze turned to the young woman on the bed. Her hair was fanned out behind her, giving her a majestic air. Her posture was tired, but her green eyes were bright with anticipation as they glided over the text.

He cleared his throat, startling the black haired beaut-woman. Black haired woman. Not beauty. Woman. The book flew into the air and she caught it, narrowly avoiding it making contact with her face. She glared as Pitch chuckled at the irony.

"Enjoying the book?"

Her face softened. "I guess. What about you? Did you experience anything that was in the story?"

He nodded. "Every single word."

Anya frowned in confusion. "It's impossible. I don't understand.." She looked up at Pitch and noticed him still standing in the doorframe. "Sit down." She offered, patting the space next to her with a smile. Pitch took a step forward but, his foot landed on a shirt that lay discarded on the ground. He lost his balance and flew towards the bed.

Once he landed, he could smell a sweet smell, coming from underneath him.

"Mind getting off?" He opened his eyes, and quickly realised the aroma was coming from Anya's hair. His brain started to function and horror started to set in when he figured out that he lay over her. His eyes flickered to Anya's face, which had turned a bright red. He chuckled, making her shiver at the vibration that ran through him. He decided to have a little fun.

"I'd rather not. I'm quite comfortable here." He made his point by turning so his back lay on her and he put his hands behind his head. He sighed in a fake show of contentment.

"Oh! Is that so?" Anya questioned, her voice as silky as his own. He hummed a ' _yes_ '. "Alright, then." Pitch could feel her wriggling slightly underneath, but he didn't pay it much mind. That was a mistake. Which he soon found out, when she stuck her hands under his arm.

Against his will, he let out a laugh, quickly having to clamp his hand over his mouth to cease the sound.

"So, the Nightmare King is ticklish?" Anya giggled. It was presented as a statement rather than a question. Pitch decided it was time to end his little bit of fun. He tried to get up, but she began tickling him again, making him fall back on top of her. An _'oof_ ' emitted from her but, she didn't let down the attack. He laughed uncontrollably as her hands made their way to his neck.

She soon was on top of Pitch, tickling him mercilessly. After a while, she sighed and fell beside him, exhausted. She tried to get up but, was pulled back down on top of Pitch. This time, she was face to face with the Boogeyman. He put his mouth up to her ear. "I'm sorry, my dear." He breathed into her ear. Her breath hitched. "But I cannot let this go unpunished." Before she could comprehend his statement, he launched his own tickle attack.

"Ahh! Pitch...STOP!" She screamed between laughs.

"Do you regret your attack?" He asked over her joyful squeals.

"NEVER!"

"Very well." He said, moving to her feet, causing her to try and squirm away from him.

After more peals of laughter from both Anya and Pitch, she finally gave in. "FINE!...I regret...the attack...now...stop!"

With a satisfied smirk, he stopped. They both sighed as they sat, side by side, on the bed. Anya closed her eyes and swayed a bit, so she touched Pitch's shoulder. The pair stiffened as the events of the past half an hour sank in. The green eyed woman got up and grabbed a bunch of clothes and a towel. "I'm going to have a shower. If you're hungry, just raid the kitchen." She quickly ran into the bathroom and locked the door behind her, just in time to hide the red blush that bloomed on her face.

Maybe her childhood fantasies of being with the Boogeyman, would become more than mere ideas in her imagination.

Out in her room, a blushing Pitch sat there, unable to come to terms with the situation. His thoughts tried to float back to Anya when a painful memory flashed through his mind.

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 **The Fearlings had made him so strong. Made him so powerful. But in reality, he was just a puppet for them to play with as they continued to corrupt his soul. He wanted to pull away from their grasp and run home. Run home and take his family far from these despicable creatures. But he was at their mercy. He could only watch as they used his body to set his home on fire. His wife came running out.**

 **"Kozmotis!" She cried. "Stop this!"**

 **He wanted to tell her to run while she wasn't being attacked. Run and save herself and their daughter. But the Fearlings answered for him, in an eerie harmony.**

 **"Kozmotis is gone! And you will join him!"**

 **He tried to fight but, the Fearlings made him lift his scythe. He wanted to be free of his horrible imprisonment in his own body. He should've thought about everything more clearly. Of course they would ambush his home soon. With all the battles he won against the fearsome beasts, they would've wanted a slice of revenge.**

 **The scythe went higher and higher. He tried to stop. To turn. To run.**

 **It came down fast and swift, shining as it cut through the air. A scream accompanied it, making him realise.**

 **He had lost her.**

* * *

"No." He whispered. "I will not allow myself to come under love's influence. Not again."


	5. Chapter 5

**Short, but sweet!**

 **Guest Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie: I know what happened, in the books, despite not having read them (yet! I wanna get them all at once, since the last one came out a while ago!) I only changed it to give him a reason to be scared about forming another roman relationship.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

After Anya came out of the shower, she began getting dinner ready. The two avoided interacting with each other, both way too

flustered at their earlier behaviour. But that didn't mean they didn't stop thinking about it.

Pitch chanced a glance at Anya, who was busy reheating the pasta from earlier. She had earphones in and was gently singing alone, a soft smile on her face. He continued to watch her when he noticed her expression change. Her smile fell, and her eyes welled up with water. He listened as she started singing another song.

Her voice was soft and quiet as if consoling a young child with the song. Pitch watched her usual bright green eyes, dull with tears. He wanted to go up and ask her why she was crying but decided to focus on the 'stories' she had written about him. He frequently found his mind drifting back to her sad expression. In his short time with her, he had seen her happy, anxious, and even slightly angered but, he hadn't seen her upset. Until now. He didn't like it one bit. He didn't know why he felt like that, but he did. It was an unusual feeling.

As if he actually cared.

"Bah." He said quietly to himself so Anya wouldn't hear him. "It won't be long before I can get my revenge. Then I won't need to be feeling these irrational things. She is just a tool in my plan."

He kept these thoughts spiralling around his head until a bowl of pasta was handed to him. He peered upwards and noticed Anya was pulling on her coat again. "Where are you going?" He questioned.

"Nowhere." She muttered, pulling her hair into a quick bun to keep it out of the way. "I just have something I need to do quickly. I'll be back in about an hour."

"For someone who is scared of the cold, I would've thought you would try your best to stay at home." Pitch stated before putting some pasta into his mouth.

Anya just shook her head and continued to get ready. She walked to the door. "I'll be back in a bit." She called before leaving, locking the door behind her.

Pitch got up and waited. Indeed, a minute later, he was met with a blast of power. "She must be outside." He grinned. He needed to find out where she was going. He looked towards the long shadow that the curtain created. "Do I even have enough power?" He asked. After feeling another pulse of fear resonate around his body, he sighed and stepped into the shadow, navigating his way outside.

He saw her not too far in front. Her fear was much more powerful than it was when they went out earlier in the day, "It must be because she's alone." Pitch concluded, watching from the shadows as she entered a cemetery. Pitch was confused. "Why would she need to..." He trailed off, remembering their conversation from earlier.

"I didn't have the best of childhoods and Mr Elmsberry would give me a chocolate bar in an attempt to make me feel better. It's kinda become a habit for him, and he just won't take no for an answer. He was the one who comforted me when...when Mom passed away."

Thinking he had his answer he followed her, breathing in her intoxicating fear of the cold. She walked to the centre and they found themselves by a white gravestone. There was a bench next to it, which Anya sat on. She fiddled with her zip before she spoke.

"Hi, Mom. I know I said I wouldn't be back until Easter, but I heard your favourite song and decided to come for a surprise visit. A lot has happened since yesterday when I last came."

She paused like she was waiting for an answer. After a moment, she continued.

"I went to the library to return the books after I visited you, yesterday. On the way back, you'll never guess who I met.." Another pause, though this was more for effect. "It was the Boogeyman in the flesh. His name is actually Pitch Black. He's much taller than me. He's got black hair and these gorgeous gold eyes. He looks exactly like he did in those dreams I used to have when I was seven." She stopped gushing, going bright red. "He's staying with me at the moment. He's actually a gentleman, albeit a little crazy. Then again, so am I." She tucked her hair behind her ear gently, with a grace Pitch admired. Her gorgeous green eyes sparkled in the moonlight.

Pitch froze in place as a warm feeling blossomed in his chest. he smacked himself, in hopes it would distract him from the happy feeling he had in his heart. He had this feeling ever since she tricked him into eating. "Ridiculous." He muttered. He most certainly didn't have feelings for a woman he had known for about a day.

Then again, she was more attractive than other women he had se-NO! No! Bad Pitch.

He turned back to the conversation before he could embarrass himself further. Thankfully, in the time he had been banishing the forbidden thoughts, she had changed the subject.

"...and since I met him yesterday, I've been much better in the cold."

...Dammit - That feeling was coming back!

"Anyways, I've gotta go. I can't leave my guest waiting. I'll be busy packing tomorrow so I can leave on Sunday, so I won't be able to come. But I promise to come and visit around Easter. Love you, Mom." Anya got up and blew a kiss at the gravestone. She ran her hands over the words imprinted on the stone.

'You may not see me, sweetie, but I will be with you through times of pain, happiness and everything in between. There is no force stronger than a mother's love. - Daphne Roberts (née Shippermier)"

"I miss you." Anya whispered as she turned away. A harsh wind whipped across the cemetery, evoking a strong wave of fear from her. Pitch shadowed back with plenty of time to mull over the information he had heard.

* * *

Pitch opened his eyes, early in the morning. He found himself lying one of the sofas, sprawled out. He must have fallen asleep when he got back. The sun was just peeking over the horizon. The sudden power boost must have exhausted him. He hadn't slept in a millennium.

But he felt much better than before. The pain that had been coursing strongly through him before was nothing more than a memory.

He groaned, trying to wake up when suddenly...

"Shhh!"

He felt something warm and heavy cover him. In his half cognitive state, he realised that it was a blanket. Directing his bleary eyes in the direction the voice had come from, he vaguely saw Anya, finger to her smiling lips.

"Go back to sleep."

He was too tired to argue, so he closed his eyes, letting his breathing even out. Just as he was about to drift off, he felt something carding his hair gently.

He couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips at the comforting gesture, just before sleep took him.


	6. Chapter 6

**My exams start in two weeks so this may be the last update for a while!**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

When Pitch next awoke, it was to the sound of crashing followed by several... _colourful_...choice words.

He rose from the sofa and made his way to the bedroom.

Anya lay on the floor, clutching her arm in pain. Pitch's eyes narrowed at the sight of blood on her clothing.

"What were you doing?!" He asked, thankful she had picked up yesterday's mess. He kneeled beside her, picked her up bridle-style and gently put her on the bed.

"Sorry if I woke you. You can go back to sleep, if you want." She attempted to sit up without removing her hand from her left arm. After a moment of struggle, she fell back against the pillow.

"If you believe I will let you continue to suffer, then you most definitely have a concussion." He tried to peal her hand from the wound but she hissed loudly and gripped it tighter. "How did you even manage this?"

"Tripped over the suitcase and cut myself on the corner of the bedside desk." Anya's eyes glittered with tears of pain. Through gritted teeth, she told Pitch, "There should be basic first aid stuff in the draw of the desk."

"Ironic how the thing that hurt you holds the cure." Pitch mused.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll talk about it when I'm not losing one of the most vital things needed for survival."

"Sanity?" Pitch grinned, pulling out bandages.

Anya rolled her eyes. "I was gonna say blood but I guess that works, too."

"You're going to have to let me pull your sleeve up." He told her. She stared at him before gently shaking her head.

"I can do it myself. You don't have to worry."

"Considering you can't even get up without taking your hand off the wound I think I have every reason to be a bit concerned." Pitch felt confused. Why was she refusing to let him help?

"Look, it's really personal. Just trust me." She smiled at him. "I'm a big girl, Pitch. I know how to handle myself."

Pitch looked at her for a long moment. A fear bubbled within her. A fear of something being discovered. But what?

"Fine. But at least let me help you to the bathroom."

"Sure, thanks." He helped her stand then followed after her with the first aid stuff. Pitch placed them on the countertop, by the sink. She smiled in thanks and as he closed the door, he saw her pull up the sleeve, exposing thin white lines on her pale skin.

He waited for the door to click shut. When it did, he stormed into the living room, livid.

How many times had he seen marks like that, marring the skin and soul of children? Considering how thin and pale they were, he assumed she got the marks as a chïld.

He snarled, collapsing on the sofa.

It was the worst fear, in his opinion. That feeling of hopelessness, weariness, and misery. Things Bunny, North and that blasted Frost were meant to protect children from, respectively.

Pitch despised this fear with all of his stone hard heart. But was it really stone hard if he refused to even feed on that Fear, because of how horrid it was?

He took a deep breath. Another reason to hate the Guardians. Another reason to use Anya for revenge. Not for himself, but so those fools could see first hand what their mistakes could cause.

The Nightmare King looked out to where to moon was slowly disappearing as the sun rose. He couldn't help but growl, "Fools. Every last one of them."

* * *

The rest of the day passed, unceremoniously. Anya was finishing her packing and Pitch had returned to scheming.

"Blast!"

He heard a chuckle. "I think you're the only being that says 'blast' when frustrated."

Pitch sat back, looking at the woman who sat next to him. "It's hardly that funny."

"Your accent makes it funny. That's to blame."

Pitch frowned. He had a distinctly British accent, due to the fact he was often spent time roaming places like London and Manchester. However, this was the first time someone had called him out for it.

"Is that why you let me stay? To make fun of me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. He felt a small satisfaction at the stammering that ensued.

"No. No w-why would you say that?!"

He chuckled deeply. "Forgive me. I needed a laugh."

Anya rolled her eyes, tying up her hair. "What's wrong? You've been muttering and cursing all morning."

"It is nothing a mortal, like yourself, should be concerned about." Pitch said off-handedly. He bent forward, resting his elbows on his knees, massaging his head with his fingers, golden eyes closed.

"This 'mortal' is giving you a roof over your head."

His eyes snapped open in surprise. It had been a long time since someone had put him in his place. Not since-

* * *

 **The scythe went higher and higher. He tried to stop. To turn. To run.**

 **It came down fast and swift, shining as it cut through the air. A scream accompanied it, making him realise.**

 **He had lost her.**

* * *

"Pitch?" Anya was suddenly in front of him, gazing at him in genuine concern. "Are you alright? You blanked out then started to breathe really quickly."

His breathing was, indeed, shallow and rapid. A deep breath, however, was all it took to rest himself"

"No cause for concern." He said. "Not in the right state of mind, remember?" He told her, tapping a finger to his head.

She let out a breath, closing her eyes.

She had been worried.

She's starting to care. The evil in his mind whispered. All is going to plan.

The plan. Pitch had almost forgotten about it.

Do not let this mortal get in your way. You remember what happened the last time you gave your heart to someone.

He didn't need another reminder.

After looking at him for a long moment, she stood and returned with the chocolate bar Mr Elmsberry had given her yesterday. She broke it in half and offered it to him. He took it hesitantly.

"Eat it. You haven't eaten since yesterday."

He bit into it and quickly found himself enjoying the silky substance. It melted on his tongue, bursting with sweetness.

"I haven't been giving humans enough credit." He said, taking another bite. Anya laughed at him.

"Finish it. After, we're going outside."

"Whatever for?"

"To get you some clothes."

* * *

Despite his protests, complaints and - he was embarrassed to admit - hissy fits, Pitch found himself hiding in the shadows as Anya picked out some clothing to wear instead of his usual outfit.

"This is ridiculous." He muttered, earning himself a sharp glare from Anya.

"Oh, hush, you big baby. It's just clothes. You can't go around in the same clothes all the time."

"My robe is made of shadows." He stated, eyebrows raised.

"You're not strong enough to fix the holes in it, I don't know if you remember." She looked like she may say more, but a fellow shopper turned into the aisle. She settled with giving him her own raised eyebrows, every time he made an attempt to complain.

When they left an hour later, Pitch felt her mental barriers go down slightly. Her breathing became a little more rapid and her eyes flickered for escape. One look outside told him exactly why she felt like this.

It was snowing.

"We don't have to go back now." He reminded her. She nodded, staring outside for another second, before turning back inside.

They made their way to the store cafe, where she ordered some coffee.

She took a sip and pulled a face of disgust. "Urgh! It tastes horrible."

Pitch grabbed it and took a sip. He didn't understand why she didn't like it. The smell alone was invigorating.

"Glad to see you're enjoying it." She said, glad she had picked to sit at a table behind a plant. No one could see her here, so she was free to talk with her accomplice as much as she wished.

"So, have you satisfied your need to shop?" Pitch asked sarcastically, casually taking another sip of her coffee.

She beamed at him, ignoring the sarcasm. "Indeed. You can try the stuff on when we get back to my place." Anya hesitated, eyes flicking to the windows. "Speaking of, the snow's stopped falling. Let's get going."

* * *

"I look ridiculous!"

He looked far from ridiculous. It was a simple V-neck t-shirt, with black jeans. With it, he wore his normal black boots but in place of the robe was a leather jacket. Pitch looked pretty cool if he said so himself.

Anya gave him a coy smile. "I know you like it!" She sing-songed. Pitch, however, refused to give her the satisfaction of being correct.

"It is...adequate." He said.

Anya made her way to the kitchenette. "Uh huh. Whatever floats your boat." She pulled out some chicken from the freezer.

Pitch hesitated before asking, "Would you like some help?"

She looked towards him curiously. "Sure." She pulled out a chopping board and some vegetables like lettuce and tomatoes. She showed him how to cut it into thin pieces. He took the knife and began cutting. "Not like that." She put her hand over his and guided him. Pitch felt his heart leap at the touch.

When she pulled away, he had to remind himself that he should be glad she had moved. Deep down, however, he was a little upset at how brief the contact had been.

He didn't acknowledge these thoughts for the rest of the day. Maybe, if he pretended long enough, these stupid feelings would go away.

' _Blast!'_


End file.
